T h e G o l d e n G r a i l :
by Stepherz
Summary: *COMPLETE * This is the pre-sequel to The Scarlette Scrolls. When two boys are mixed in confusion, they turn to eachother as a final testimony of humanity...For those of you who hate Banksie-Angst don't read this. It's all Banks and Charlie angst.
1. My Rantings!

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My Rantings!

Disclaimer - The plot is mine, the characters aren't. Travis, Brad, Justin, and Adam's mom are all from my mind. Their descriptions and personalities belong to me…The basis of their creation belongs to Disney.

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Dedication - This is dedicated to all my reviewers. Thanks so much!

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Note - This was not a spur of the moment fic. I know it's short, and probably not very good. It's the first part of **The Rainbow Series**. It's the prequal to **The Scarlette Scrolls**. There are going to be three more before **The Scarlette Scrolls** takes place. I'm sorry for any confusion.

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Rating - It's rated PG-13 because of the violence. The rating might be a little high, but, oh well! =) 

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Important! AN - I want to make it clear to you that the events of this story WILL NOT MAKE SENSE. They don't match the movie! THEY DO NOT MATCH THE MOVIE! I have manipulated the events in the movie to suit my purposes. Adam does go to the same school - they're in 7th grade. It's a Middle-High Academy. Adam was on the team before Tammy and Duncan. There…I'm done. I hope anyway.


	2. The Woes of Banks

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Adam's POV

I sat up, wondering what time it was. In the background I could hear the bustling of morning in the Banks family. I rolled over, glaring contritely at the clock, which read 6:15. I was fifteen minutes late. "Adam! Hurry up! Don't make me say it again, mister!" It was my mom. She was screeching up the stairs. 

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" I called back.

Groggily, I slid out from my satin sheets and off my warm and comforting bed. I walked mechanically to my bathroom. Yes, I _do_ have my own bathroom. After a moment, I felt a puddle growing under my foot, and looked down. With a yawn, I saw that my toe was bleeding. I wondered how that could have happened, before I realized that I'd stubbed my toe on the dresser. I hadn't even felt it! I wiped my eyes, the morning film disappearing. "Ow?" I hadn't felt it at all. I guess that was me though, immune. In a way, I suppose I must have been. There's no way I could have survived if I wasn't.

I peered into the mirror, viewing my pallid façade. A sudden rush of anger swept through me, and I slammed my palms against the glass. "Adam," I scolded myself, "You have to learn to control that temper."

There was a purplish-black mark circling my eye. I poked at it ruefully. It stung. _So,_ I thought to myself, _you're not immortal._

Besides the black pit that swallowed my eye, I was good looking. It frustrated me, big time. I wouldn't mind being good looking, accept for the fact that my father didn't seem to think I was. He kept trying to make not-so-subtle alterations to my face.

Now my temper was running away with me, and I clenched my jaw. I combed my hair and got dressed, running back into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I sauntered hesitantly down the stairs. I knew my mom wouldn't say anything about my black eye, and my dad would grin proudly at it…disgusting me. My two brothers would sneer and make fun of me.

Travis, the eldest of us, was 18. He was a senior in the local high school. He had black hair that flew from his face in greasy wisps, as if it held a stench that you wouldn't want to get anywhere near. His eyes were a dark shade of brown, and his nose was long, skinny and pointed. Every time I looked at him, I half-expected to see a wart forming on the end of it. He had an attitude that made you want to slug him. Sometimes I just couldn't resist.

The middle child, Brad, was just as cruel and obnoxious as Travis was. He was two years younger, but it was like they were the same, or they'd formed an alliance. The only thing I'd noticed about him, was that he had a conscience. He felt bad after Travis did something. He was human. He had nearly black hair, which was cut short and prim. His eyes matched the hue of his hair. He wasn't _bad_ looking, but he wasn't movie-star material or anything.

My father, my awful father, was a handsome man. He was middle-aged and filthy rich. He had dark brown hair, and a receding hairline. He'd grown up in a high-class family, and had always intended to have one of his own. He was a banker. His favorite hobby, besides beating me, was to drink. He'd been an alcoholic since I was four years old. He hadn't hit me until five, though.

My mom was nothing short of beautiful. She had a lighter complexion, which I'd inherited. She had long blondish hair that fell to her mid-back. Her eyes were green-blue, like mine. She was very close to perfect. I really didn't look a thing like my father, but took after my mother one hundred percent. She didn't defend me, which made me dislike her, and distrust her. She was no where near as cruel as Travis, or my father, but she did her harm without saying.

Halfway down the stairs Travis confronted me. 

"Well, well, well. Aren't you a little far from your mommy?" He and Brad both loved to make fun of me over the fact that my mother hated me just as much as I hated her. He pushed me the rest of the way down the stairs and I landed, curling, on my back. Brad walked along casually, stepping on me. He stepped purposefully on my stomach and I fought to get my breath back. The air came in short gasps as both my brothers leaned over me.

"Oh, your highness, can we help you up?" They tugged on my shoulders, and I involuntarily stood on my own two feet, breathing erratically.

"Darling, what would you like for breakfast?" Travis jeered at me. They led me to the kitchen, my feet not even touching the ground. I didn't answer. There was already a bowl of cereal poured, so it didn't seem that I'd have a choice. Brad surrendered me to my older brother, and went to get the cereal. Travis spun me around, into the counter's edge. I cringed, that had hurt after all. 

"How about cereal?"

Brad smirked, holding the bowl under my chin. Travis took it from him, and Brad thrust my head into the mixture. My nostrils filled with the creamy liquid. I tried to breathe, the ivory substance seeping into my mouth. I sputtered, trying to spit it back out. Travis rotated his hand, my nose pressing flat against the bottom of the bowl.

Brad laughed a truly maniacal laugh, and Travis followed suit, setting the bowl down. Milk dripped from my nose and mouth as I sank to the floor, stunned. I wouldn't cry, no, I wouldn't cry. The first time my dad had beaten me, I promised myself that I wouldn't cry. So, at a mere five years old, I had abandoned my emotions.

Travis and Brad advanced, and would have bullied me more, but my mom yelled, "Travis! Brad! Bus's here!" They disappeared out the door. Both wore huge and repulsive smirks.

I hated them. They slammed the door behind, and my mom entered the room. I flinched, my senses returning, and waited for the verbal assault that I was sure would come.

"Adam," she started calmly, to my surprise, "What's all this mess about?"

I swallowed nervously, the bulge of my gullet moving silently.

"Um…" I knew if I told her that it was Travis and Brad, she'd simply tell me that I was lying, and give me a lecture on how I should act more mature and not like the baby I'd made myself out to be. Later that night, she would tell me father. I pictured the scene that I was positive would happen if I blamed it on my brothers.

She moved towards me, and I shrunk myself into a denser ball of human. She leaned over me, frowning. 

"Grow up, Adam. I won't tell your father this time…he got you pretty bad last night. The next time you do something like this, I won't be so lenient."

I stared up at her, in shock. Was that a note of sympathy I detected? Did she have a conscience after all?

I looked at her warily. She was right about last night's beatings. It hurt me to move. Each of my muscles begged for mercy when I shifted my position. 

"Okay…" I knew, of course, that there would be many more incidents like this. As long as Jesse and Brad were around, anyway.

"Alright. Now go change. Hurry. You'll be late for school."

I got up and meandered up the stairs. As I re-dressed, I wondered what the change in my mom's attitude was all about. Had he beaten her too? There was no time to think about it, since I would be late if I didn't leave right away. I ran down the stairs and out the door, not even thinking to say anything concerning my departure.

I sprinted down the street, despite the pain. Charlie was waiting for me.


	3. Goodbye - So long

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Charlie's Point of View

I met Adam half way to school. I lived less than two blocks from Adam's house. My backpack was weighing me down, and I scuffed my sneakers against the pavement.

"Hey, -" he began, but I cut him off.

"Adam! What happened?"

He blushed, averting his gaze swiftly away. I regretted drawing attention to it. He was breathing hard, and I knew he'd been running to catch up with me. "It was Travis and Brad."

I looked at him, and knew he was lying. "I've heard of sibling rivalry, but that's a little…" I trailed off, and we walked a while longer. "You can tell me, Adam. I know he beats you."

He looked at me, obviously surprised. I hadn't told him my own story, so I guess he was out of the loop. "You know?" He inquired, "How?"

I frowned, shaking my head disdainfully. "We're both on the same team, buddy. You don't get bruises like that from hockey, and I see how you look at your dad too."

He sighed and we started walking. Adam's breathing returned to normal and it was oddly silent, so I broke the void. "How long has it been going on?" I asked.

"I was five," he answered.

"Seven years…" I muttered, more to myself than to him, "Six years, and you never said anything?"

"No, Charlie, I didn't." He sounded agitated, and his curt reply was meant to tell me to drop it.

I was lucky that my step-dad didn't go for my face, or arms, or legs. Usually it's my chest, or back, which I can easily hide under a shirt. He beat my mom too. She was too afraid to turn him in, and I guess I was too.

I realized that I was drifting away into daydreams. Adam's voice broke the silence, as we rounded the corner and the school became visible. 

"I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault, but here I am snapping at you."

"It's okay."

"Are you sure?" He seemed doubtful.

"Yes, really." I was still a little hurt by his lack of trust in me, but what he said next really gave me insight into his situation. He didn't have anyone! No one at all!

"Good, because you're my best friend. Probably my only friend. If I didn't have you, I would have self-destructed ages ago. Thank you…just, for being there. I don't know how you read my mind this time, about my dad, but I think you just saved my life."

I didn't know what he meant by 'you just saved my life' at first. After a moment, it hit me. He'd been contemplating suicide! I looked at him, smiling empathetically. I sighed, "I guess that means I'd better tell you the truth, too."

We were at the front doors of the school. He looked at me expectantly. We were turning quite a few heads, and the females around us snorted and giggled. I avoided their glances, turning to look at Adam.

"Justin beats me too." I said it quietly, so no one would hear. He looked shock and I knew the possibility had never occurred to him. I bit my lip, hard enough to draw blood. I felt the color drain from my face, and I looked away. He was still trying to comprehend my words when the bell rang.

The crowds, once scattered over the campus, filed around us. One student went in between us, and elbowed me hard in the ribs, causing a string of pain. The ache that had been there before was multiplied by at least ten, now. I nodded towards the doors, and Adam followed me inside.

"Charlie, I-"

"I have to get to class. See you at lunch. Bye, Adam." I disappeared into the murder of pupils, leaving him baffled and confused.

Adam and I had second period class together. I walked quickly in, and slid into the seat next to him. He smiled at me, and I countered with my own toothy grin. A grin was hard to manage, since I as confused as he was.

I wanted to help him something awful, but it didn't seem like I would get to. The teacher started her lecture before I could.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

The day went by slowly. The bell finally rang for lunch, and I literally ran from the room. I slipped casually into the seat next to Adam.

"Hi" I greeted him as if nothing had happened.

He smiled back. The realization had seemed to sink in. I took out my lunch. He was already eating his.

Adam didn't have a girlfriend, although he could have his pick of them. Just as he was finishing his sandwich, two girls came by. It was Connie. Connie and one of her ditzy blonde friends. I would gladly speak to Connie, but her friends were another story.

"Hey guys." Connie grinned.

"Hi" Adam managed while chewing the last of his sandwich.

Connie motioned to the blonde standing next to her.

"This is Tammy. I think she's going to join the team."

Tammy looked about ready to growl at us.

I almost choked on my lunch. Adam smiled, though, eyeing Tammy. She scowled and eyed him right back.

"Welcome to the Ducks, then, Tammy." Adam chimed with a smile, to my surprise.

"Thanks. What's your name?" She responded rather good-naturedly.

"Adam."

"Thanks, Adam."

Connie smiled, glad to see that Tammy was getting along with some one. I had been wrong about her. She was far from ditzy.

Tammy and Connie sat with us for the rest of lunch. I had to wonder why Banks had welcomed her to the team. That was _my_ job. I was Captain!

I cleared it from my mind. Adam was my best friend. He wasn't closing in on my position. He'd said many times before, that he couldn't care less about Captain.

Back to class. The rest of the day went slower than the first half. When school was over, I met Adam on the front lawn of the academy.

"Hey Charlie."

"Hey!"

We walked home, making small talk about the events of school. We both deciding that school was boring and that we'd stick to hockey once we graduated. But what did we know? I mean, we were only 13. Adam turned 13 in a week, and I had turned 13 almost a month ago.

As we reached the place where we went our own ways, I sighed. It was a barely audible sigh, but Adam picked up on it.

"Don't worry. I'll be at hockey, if Mr. Banks' temper allows." He smiled good-naturedly, and I recalled all the times he had missed practice.

I hadn't thought anything of it, and no one protested since he was the best on the team, and Bombay pretty much let him come and go as he pleased.

I realized that I was stalling, and took a step in the direction of my house. It was strange. I felt strange every time we separated. It was like a part of me was being taken away.

I looked at him; my pain was obvious because he stepped towards me, looking just as pained.

Abruptly he turned and walked towards his house.

"Bye Charlie." He called back over his shoulder.

"Bye…Adam." I mumbled.

I started walking home. I wasn't looking forward to this.


	4. Shards of What I Used To Know

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Adam's POV

I walked home. My mind was full of thoughts of, well, confusion. I was achy, in all aspects of the word. My muscles ached, as well as my heard. That sounds really corny, but oh well! It's true.

I'd known that something was wrong. I mean, I'm not experienced in the area of 'friends', but I don't think I'm supposed to feel this way. Especially about my _best_ friend.

I reached my front door. I seriously considered whether or not I should bother. Charlie and I had talked many times about suicide. He'd always stressed how bad it was. For me, it seemed a lot better.

My dad must have seen me through the window, because he opened the door and pulled me inside. Sometimes I wonder if everyone can read my mind. I thought about this again, because my dad shouted, "Did you think you could just forget about us, and run away?"

He was drunk. I could smell it.

"No…I was just trying to…uh…remember something." The door closed behind us. The house was dimly lit. The atmosphere was dark. _Oh no!_ I thought.

My dad threw me across the hard wood floor of the living room. I trembled, but didn't move. My dad never talked when he beat me. He used all his energy just to hurt.

He advanced. I knew better than to run, or even move. Sometimes I thought I'd better not breathe either.

My thoughts drifted to Charlie as I took my father's foot in my side without protest.

I wondered if Charlie was going through the same thing. I didn't think so, but I couldn't know for sure. One thing I could tell, was that this beating wouldn't hurt much. My father hadn't been provoked, and he would be tired from his day at work. So, until he drank a dozen more, I wouldn't be in any real danger.

Travis and Brad walked around the corner. They stared at me, while another blow from his shoe hit me. The difference between Brad and Travis, was that Travis would laugh at me while I was beaten, and Brad would look as if he felt my pain. But, conscience or no conscience, his sympathy never lasted long.

My father pulled me to my feet, and though my lip was bleeding, he slugged me across the face. I didn't even flinch. I was used to it by now. He re-hit my black eye, and my jaw cracked under his merciless blows.

He stood, tall and menacing. Only now did I dare move. He seemed content.

I sunk to the floor, my body shaking in fright. My jaw hurt, along with my eye. He towered over me. He raised his hand high about his head. I shrunk, wishing I could disappear through the wall.

His palm came crashing down on me. All our "sessions" started and ended like that. The relationship between my father and me was hate-hate as far as I could tell.

My father stalked off, and Travis came. He smirked, nudging me with his toe. His army boot was hard against my tender flesh. I looked at him, obviously in pain.

Brad was next to him, obviously feeling guilty. Sometimes I wondered what Brad would be like if Travis weren't around.

I glared at them both.

"Leave me alone…please."

Brad looked ready to, but Travis grabbed the collar of his shirt.

"No." He said simply.

"Are you even human? Can't you see that you're as much of a problem as _him_?" It hurt for me to yell, but I did anyway.

Travis frowned, picking me up by my shirt.

"Say that again, maggot."

"You're **_worse_** than him!" I found myself shouting in his face. Big mistake. He shoved me into the wall, repeating my father's actions and kicking me. His army boots made it tem times worse.

"You want worse, maggot? I'll give you worse!" He picked up the coffee table.

It was a hard mahogany, with a glass center. He raised it high above his head. His face was miserable, and raging.

He lowered the table swiftly towards me. I shielded my face instinctively with my hands. It stopped, just inches from my face. Brad's hand was on Travis's shoulder.

"Don't, Travis." He mumbled.

Travis eyes him, and shrugged his hand off.

"Whose side are you on, Brad?"

Brad looked at me, pained. He wouldn't dare defy Travis when he was in a mood like that.

Travis turned his attention back to me. 

"That's what I thought." He muttered.

He sent the table crashing over me. The shards of broken glass scattered over my skin, causing scratches and cuts. They were fairly deep, and I yelped. Travis smiled.

He hit me with the table twice more. He put it down, and marched off in search of my mother. She came into the room, and shrieked in anguish.

"Adam!"

Brad glared at Travis, who looked very pleased with himself.

"I told you, mom." He snarled.

I didn't move. What good would it do?


	5. It's up to you.

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AN - This is a really short chapter -- sorry about that.

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Charlie's POV

As I walked away from him, I fought the yearning to turn back and race for him. It was strange. I really wanted him to stay.

Reluctantly I walked home. My mom rushed out the door. Her hair was a mess, and her make-up was running. I assumed the worst. She caught me by the arm, and pulled me into the car. She locked the doors, and wiped her tears.

I sighed, dropping my backpack between my knees. I was getting angry now.

"Mom, turn on the car."

"Why?" She looked at me, surprised.

"We're going to turn him in."

"Charlie! That won't work."

"Yes it will!"

"Charlie…"

"I'm sick of it, mom! Why won't you do what's right and protect us?"

"You know it's not that easy."

"But it is!"

She sighed, and put her key in the car. She looked back at the house, and then me, and took the key out, dropping it back into her purse.

"I'm sorry Charlie." She got out of the car and walked back into the house without another word, and without looking back. I groaned angrily, and punched the dashboard of the car.

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She'll never turn him in.

I realized that it would be up to me. I frowned, she'd walked back into his abusive clutched. Sighing, I got out of the car and walked slowly back to the house. He was waiting, to my surprise.

"Where have you been?" He asked in a soft, gentle voice.

"Uhh…" I was ready to run.

"Wait, look, I'm sorry." Here came his usual apology speech.

"Don't bother." I shoved past him. He frowned, but I knew he wouldn't do anything to me while he was sober. He only yelled at my mom when he wasn't drunk. When he was, that's when the beating started.

I locked myself in my room as he popped the top off his favorite beer. I turned on the music…loud. I didn't want to hear the screams, and locking myself in my room seemed like the best way out.


	6. Strike up the sympathy.

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Adam's POV

My mom sighed and sat down next to me.

"Travis. Brad. Please go."

She picked up a few shards of glass, and watched my brothers leave before turning to face me.

"This is getting out of hand."

I expected her to blame me. I didn't dare speak though.

"Adam, why do you let it go on?"

"It's not so bad, once you get used to it."

"You never said anything." There were tears in her eyes.

"I thought I was obvious."

She sighed again, and leaned against the wall.

"Your own brothers…"

"Yeah, well."

The phone rang, and my mother picked it up.

"Hello?"

Muffled voices and noise…

She looked at me.

"Yes, just a minute."

She handed me the phone and helped me to my feet. She mouthed the words '_Go and clean those cuts. I'll take care of this._'

I raised the phone to me ear.

"Hello?"

"Adam!"

"Charlie!"

I walked to my room, as my mom had instructed.

"Yeah…" He trailed.

"Something wrong?" I scowled into the mirror.

"Nah - Just the usual." I heard the screaming in the background come to an abrupt stop.

"It's gonna end soon enough." He continued. "I'm turning him in."

I pressed a damn washcloth to my cheek.

"That's great, Charlie!"

"You should turn your dad in too." I swallowed. The thought had crossed my mind more than once.

"I can't. You know what he would do? What Travis would do?"

"Tell them everything!"

"You know better."

"Adam, have some faith!"

"I don't have time for that."

"It's the only way!"

"You're crazy!" I nearly shouted at him.

There was a pause as I yelped while tugging a rather large piece of glass from a cut on my shoulder.

"Adam?"

"What?" It came out more hostile that intended.

"It can't get any worse."

"Sure it could! You don't know what they're capable of!"

"Why can't you just trust the authority?"

"How _can_ you?" I was beyond trying…The authorities wouldn't help. It would be a scandal…it would ruin everything.

"What have they done to wrong you?" He seemed as distressed as I felt.

"I can't talk anymore tonight. I think I'm going to miss practice." I concluded that the cuts would need stitches.

He muttered a curse word that made even me blush, and I thought I'd heard them all.

"Bye…"

"Adam! Wait!"

"What? Make it quick."

"We can't live like this anymore. If you don't turn him in, I will!"

I stopped mid-motion. Had I heard him right?

"No! You can't!"

"Why are you defending him, Adam? This is for the best!"

It was my turn to mutter one of those unrepeatable words.

"It's good to hear your voice again…" His comment threw me off. It had been spoken with emotion…and what seemed like affection.

Aw, who was I kidding? It was probably a "brotherly" thing. I sighed and tried to think of something to say, but his voice interrupted my thoughts.  
"I'm sorry. Geez, I'm getting all sappy over here." I could hear the tears in his voice.

"Don't be. I'm glad you called, but I have to go. I don't want these cuts to bleed anymore."

"Bye Adam." He inhaled, and I knew that if he ever got his hands on my family, he would cause hideous damage.

"Bye…" I hung up.

I washed the cuts with peroxide, cringing every now and then. When I was done, I went down stairs. My mom had just finished cleaning up.

"I think these need stitches." I motioned to the cuts across my front.

She nodded after looking at me. Another reason I got along so well was that my mom was a nurse.

She got to work on the cuts. She went about it gently. The question about her change of heart came up again. I dismissed it quickly. No time.

When she was done, she wrapped them. I looked at the clock. Practice was half over. She seemed to read my mind, and put her hand on my unblemished shoulder.

"Hungry?"

I nodded warily. Aha! She was going to poison me!

She smiled and went into the kitchen. I heard a creaking noise and turned to see my father stumble down the stairs. I shrunk into the corner of the room.

He was oblivious. Rip-roaring drunk. I had never seen him so soaked.

I shrank still further into the corner. Sometimes he wouldn't notice me when he was really drunk. This time, however, he did.


	7. Captain Duck...At your service!

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AN - This is another short chapter…Sorry =/

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Charlie's POV

I reluctantly hung up the phone. I had longed for that voice since I'd left him at the corner. I sat on my bed. I meant what I'd said about turning them in…I had to.

The fight was over, and Justing had passed out. My mom would put an ice pack, water and painkillers next to him. Then she would lock herself in the bedroom to wallow in self-pity. I knew the routine all too well.

I laid out on my bed, then I remembered hockey. I grabbed my gear and scurried out the door. Justin was stirring and I ran the first few blocks before I slowed to a walk.

I went straight to the locker rooms once I got to the arena. Half of the team had already changed. The other half was changing. They looked around.

"Where's Cake-Eater?" Jesse snapped.

I looked up at him.

"Hey can't make it."

Jesse eyed me.

"He's always missing practice! The only reason he's on the team is because Bombay won't kick him off."

I frowned and kept my temper under control, for now.

"He has his reasons."

"And how do you know?"

By now the rest of the team seemed as curious as Jesse was demanding.

"I just do."

"You know what?" Jesse frowned.

"What?" I snapped.

"I say that when we kick the lousy Cake-Eater off the team, we send you with him!"

Peter nodded, and stepped up next to him.

I scowled at them, but Jesse continued.

"You know what they say…Birds of a feather stick together, and neither of you are real Ducks." He smirked. And Peter laughed.

"They must be Hawks." His high-pitched voice sent me over the edge.

I jumped up from the bench and slammed Peter against the lockers.

"Take it back!" I yelled.

"Put him down!" The team chimed as they tugged on me.

"Spazway - Banks is a traitor! Deal with it!" He shouted, and spit in my face.

I stared for a moment in shock, and shoved him harder against it. The noise echoed through the room.

Bombay walked in. The team spread away from us as he looked around.

"Charlie?" He grabbed the back of my practice jersey.

"What?" I responded sharply.

"Let him go."

I did.

Peter glared.

I glared back.

He blended in with the rest of the team.

"Charlie, what's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing, Charlie?"

"Nothing." I said firmly as I shot Peter and Jesse a look.

"This doesn't look like nothing to me. Where's Adam?"

"Home." Jesse sneered.

Bombay eyed me.

"Do you know why, Charlie?"

"That's not my job."

"What is your job?" Uh oh…  
"To lead this team…on the ice." I stared at him.

"I want to talk to you." He motioned to his office.

"The rest of you…laps."


	8. The Beating of A Lifetime

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AN - I apologize, this is yet another short chapter…Hopefully the next will make up for it.

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Adam's POV

He advanced towards me. I prepared for the beating of my life. He took the belt from his waist.

Brad walked in. He took one look at me, and his eyes widened larger than I'd ever seen them. He stood for a moment in the doorway, as my father cracked the belt, buckle-end, down on me.

After staring, he tiptoed to the kitchen. I could see him cast an empathetic look from the corner of my unmarred eye.

The belt swished, slashed and sliced against my skin. The look on my father's face was unreal. He was totally numb.

My mother appeared at the door. She had tears streaming down her cheeks. Brad stood next to her. There was nothing they could do now.

I lost track of time as the beating continued. It never once came to my mind that I might cry. Never once. 

I felt that I couldn't take any more when he pulled me to my feet. I wobbled, but leaned against the wall for support. My shirt was in tatters, and my body was blood-soaked.

He looked at me; a drowsy nothingness crossed his expression. I could have hoped he would pass out, but hoping is all it would be. My father never passed out, or at least, he never had before.

His hands released the belt, and moved back to his waist. He ran his fingers along the band of his pants, stopping at the front. I heard a zipping, and looked to see my father slip his pants off. He continued by unbuttoning his shirt. He moved towards me. I didn't move.

All I felt was confusion.

His hands outstretched to my jeans, unbuttoning them. My senses screamed at me. I made a gargling noise in my throat, only rewarded with the back of my father's fist. 

I didn't know what was happening. I knew this was wrong. What he was doing was wrong. What _was_ he doing? I was beyond comprehension.

By the time my vision cleared, my pants were at my ankles. I wanted to drop dead. My father advanced still closer. My mind swirled and from somewhere deep inside me, I fathered enough energy to push my father back.

He looked at me, shocked. I was frozen where I was. My father embraced me, before I could protest again. He pressed me against the wall, and I was vaguely aware of what was happening. I was beyond caring, but my mind fought my exhaustion. I knocked him back, and he landed on his rear.

I pulled up my pants. He was getting up. I made quick for the door. My mom and Brad disappeared back into the kitchen. Their expressions were of shock, hatred and horror. There were plenty of tearstains to accompany them too.

I ran down the road. My mind was a blur. The only target was "Charlie". I headed for his house.

I was unaware of the blood dripping from me in great amounts.

I was less than a block away from my destination when my power source died. I fell to my knees. Seconds later, my head hit the ground.

Strands of black were weaving through my vision. 

I fought to keep my eyes open.

I fought the bliss of darkness.

I fought until I could hold it back no longer.

The dim senses went blank, and the endless night set in.


	9. I love you...

****

AN - Okay, this is pretty short too, but…I think it says a lot.

Charlie's POV

I ran from Bombay's office. Besides the usual third degree and my refusal to answer, nothing happened.

Something told me to hurry home, so I threw on my roller blades. I didn't bother with pads, but snapped on my helmet, grabbed my bag, and rolled out the door.

I'd been dismissed ten minutes early. I hadn't even practiced. I propelled myself quickly homeward. A dread-filled nervousness dimmed my senses.

I was three blocked from my house. I was reaching a climax of speed, when I hit a patch of gravel.

I tumbled a dozen feet forward. My body was badly scathed. Both my elbows were skinned. I simply picked myself up and sped towards my house.

My muscles were stunned from the fall, and both my legs cramped. It almost immobilized me, but my motivation was too great. I had to get home.

The haunting feeling of apprehension built up steadily. I was beyond emotion.

I rounded the corner. My house was in view. I darted towards it. My skate caught on something, and I hit the ground face-first. I looked to see what I'd tripped over. My breath caught in my throat and my eyes filled with tears.

"Adam!"

His body was in a heap on the ground. His hair was matted with sweat and blood. Purple lumps and crimson slits demolished his skin. His shirt hung uselessly, revealing a heaving chest, shrouded by blood.

His eyes were half-open, and so bloodshot that I could hardly tell them apart from his skin. Blood was dripping from his mouth and nose. His arm was bent at an odd angle.

I knelt over him, my eyes instantly fogging over with tears.

His pants were unbuttoned. His shoes were untied. Several peach looking threads poked from his shoulder. I could see the stitches plainly.

I yelled in anguish, and the salty droplets blurred my vision. The thing I noticed about Adam, was that his eyes weren't puffy from crying.

His black eye had shrunken and incredible amount, and his other eye was untouched. There were no watermarks and no evidence of tears.

My own tears flowed twice as freely with this knowledge.

A woman appeared in a doorway across the street.

"I've called an ambulance." She cried.

The words reached my ears, but I was too busy looking at Adam in disbelief to reply. She watched from where she stood, not daring to come any closer.

I took his head in my lap and cradled it. I stroked his damp hair and tried to muffle my wretched sobs.

He stirred and I paused, looking down at him through misted eyes. He looked up at me. A flicker of recognition crossed his expression. He quivered and tried to speak.

I put my finger to my lips, swallowing harshly through my obviously emotional condition.

"Shh…Banksie, don't talk."

He didn't listen to me. His throat made a horrendous gurgling sound and he coughed up blood.

I tilted his head to the side so he wouldn't choke. He kept trying to talk, despite my efforts to calm him.

"He…he tri-tried to-t-to…" He sputtered and looked at his pants. I guessed what he meant, as he shivered.

"It's okay, Adam. He'll never get another chance to do this."

He shook his head. His chin and throat were covered in saliva mixed with blood. He looked like the walking dead, but I could easily tell that he was in his right mind.

His spine trembled and his head knocked against my shin as a gust of sprint air bled over us. He reached for my hand, and grasped it with surprising strength.

"I love you, Charlie." His words were hoarse and he choked them up as he talked. I felt the tears in my eyes stream like rivers down my face.

Something in the way he said it made me believe that he didn't mean it like friends, or brothers.

I pressed the back of his hand to my cheek. He was cold to the touch, and I tremored with fright. _He can't die!_ I thought.

In a hushed voice I whispered to him. Two ambulances and several cop-cars pulled up.

"I love you too, Adam."

He smiled up at me, and I felt his body go limp in my arms. The medics rushed over with their equipment. They lifted him onto a stretcher and covered his face with an oxygen mask.  
By the looks on the paramedics' faces I could see that he was in bad shape.

The cops were going around taking statements. Two in uniform asked me my name. I couldn't talk.

"The kid's in shock! Get him to the hospital!"

Before I knew what was happening, I was on a stretcher, and being loaded into another ambulance. My mind reeled, and the only thing I could grasp were Adam's last words…

"I love you, Charlie."

____________________________________________________________________________________

This is the end of **: T h e G o l d e n G r a i l :** . It was completed/posted very fast, but I have been writing it in silence for almost a month. On paper it seems much longer, too. =P I hope you liked it…My apologies if you didn't…


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